Khalid extinguished the lighter and dropped it into his side pocket, next to the knife. "Want a smoke?" he called over to the guard.
The guard shrugged. "Thanks, man." He left his post and crossed to where Khalid stood at the edge of the chasm.
Khalid fished out his pack of cigarettes and shook a few out for the guard. "Take a couple."
The guard slipped one to his lips and another into his uniform pocket. "Got a light?"
"Sure." Khalid reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the stiletto, coughing to cover the click of the release as he pressed the button. "Have they ever searched the bottom of the chasm?"
"Nah." The guard glanced at the black crevice. "Too damn deep."
"Good." With the guard's attention diverted, Khalid whipped out the knife and slashed deeply into the Marine's neck, making sure to slice below the larynx to ensure a silent death. No scream, just a wet gurgle.
Stepping back to avoid the spurting arterial blood, he tipped the guard backward into the gorge. For a moment, the guard teetered, arms wheeling as he tried to regain balance, eyes stretched open in horror, a wash of blood flowing down his chest. Then he tumbled into the blackness.
Khalid listened. After a handful of seconds, he heard a distant thud.
Content, he crossed the bridge and slipped into shadows. From here he would need to move quickly and quietly. He proceeded across the base toward the elevator, avoiding pools of light. Thankfully, they were few and far between.
After four minutes, he was at the elevator. The area, well lighted but empty of eyes, was unguarded. The military, isolated so far from the world, was too damned confident with the security of their periphery.
After a minute of study, Khalid crouched and darted for the huge metal box that housed the elevator's motor assembly. He slipped a cube of plastique from his inner jacket pocket and secured it to the assembly in a darkened corner. He paused a moment. No time to be frugal. He took a second cube and positioned it next to the first. That was better. More than enough to leave a crater where the motors now stood. He carefully wired the bomb to ignite with the proper signal from his transceiver. He eyed his handiwork with a thin-lipped smile.
A security blanket. When the time was right, this should cover his escape, ensuring no one followed him back up.
After a final check, he fled into the dark.
EIGHT
SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING? MORE LIKE MIDNIGHT.
Ashley shook her head, staring out the windshield as the electric vehicle bumped along. Due to the enclosed space of the caverns and the risk of fouling the air with carbon monoxide, internal-combustion engines had been prohibited, except for a few watercraft.
So the electric golf-cart-like transports, nicknamed "Mules" by the Navy personnel, were the only real means of travel around Alpha Cavern.
Ashley rubbed at the Mule's fogged window. Only the headlamps broke the darkness ahead. Beside her, with both hands firmly gripping the wheel, sat Dr. Symski, a young freckled researcher still new to his degree.
From the back seat, over the buzzing whine of the electric motor, Ben's snores erupted like shotgun blasts. She glanced over her shoulder at him. How could he just fall asleep like that? The trip was a one-hour excursion over rough terrain. An exceptionally large bump jarred her back into a forward position.
Dr. Symski turned one eye toward her. "I can't believe I'm sitting next to the Professor Carter," he said. "I've read your paper on the Gila dwellings. Amazing stuff. And now here you are."
"Thanks," she said. The young researcher had too much enthusiasm for so early in the morning. Her cup of coffee hadn't kicked in yet, and the stench of leaking ozone from the motor's batteries was making her queasy.
"I wish you were here with us from the start. I'm afraid there's nothing new left to explore. We've already searched, cataloged, diagrammed, and explored every square inch. It was all in the papers I sent you last night."
She rubbed at her red eyes. It had taken her until four in the morning to read the reams of data. Two hours of sleep did not make for a pleasant morning. "I wish someone had faxed me those earlier. I would have liked to have gone through them more thoroughly before viewing the site."
"Sorry, but all this is stamped confidential. We were ordered to restrict access until you arrived."
She watched the road ahead as the Mule crawled through the shadows. "More goddamn secrecy," she grumbled.
"I'll show you the main areas when we arrive. A guided tour, if you will."
Hell with that, she thought. "Listen, Dr. Symski, I'm sure your team was very precise, but I'd prefer to do a little exploring on my own. Get a feel for the place. The study of a site involves more than just numbering and cataloging."
"What do you mean?"
She drew a long breath. How to put this into words? The more you worked on a dig, the more each site developed its own character-or soul. For instance, the Gila dwellings "felt" different than the Chaco Canyon site. She found this perspective added a unique level of insight into the people and customs.
"Never mind," she said. "It's just what I do."
He shrugged. "I'll leave you on your own, then. I wanted to recheck some measurements anyhow."
She nodded. Good. He was starting to grate on her nerves.
Settling back into her seat, she allowed the road to lull her. Just as her eyes half closed, Dr. Symski stopped the Mule with a hard brake. "Here we are," he said.
She looked out. Nothing but darkness beyond the stretch of headlights. "Where?"
"Got to kick up the generator first." He opened his door, and the vehicle's interior lights flashed on. Ben awakened with a startled grunt.
"Are we there yet?" he asked huskily, rubbing a hand through his hair.
"Yes," she said, trying to drip as much disdain into her voice as possible. "You know, you could have caught up on your sleep back at camp."
"And miss this? No way."
She watched the young doctor, flashlight in hand, cross to the far wall where the generator sat. He bent over and began fiddling with the unit. Frowning, Ashley climbed from the truck, hoping the ham-fisted military researchers hadn't corrupted the dig. So many times in the past, key clues to an ancient society's history had been trampled on by the incompetent.
Within moments, the generator coughed, sputtered, then settled into an even rumbling sound. Floodlights ignited, blinding after the dark ride. The north wall lit up like a huge stage.
"Wow," Ben said as he climbed out next to her.
A scaffolding of metal frames and warped boards covered the honeycombed wall of the cavern. Dwellings extended up the wall in five distinct levels, she estimated a total of about forty yards in height. The levels connected to one another by either a series of handholds or sets of crude stairs. She squinted to the left; the excavated dwellings even extended over the lake, with plateaus of rock jutting over the water like porches.
"What do you think, Ashley?" Ben stood to her left.
"I could spend years here."
Ben nodded. "Who do you think built this place?"
She pointed at the wall. "One thing I know. This was not built by Homo sapiens."
"Then who did it?"
"An earlier species of man, I suspect. Look at the size of the caves. None over four feet in height. Too small for modern man. Perhaps Homo erectus, but I doubt even that." She found herself thinking out loud. "A Neanderthal tribe? I don't know. I've never seen evidence of a Neanderthal tribe building this extensively. And how did they get here?" She shrugged. "I've got to get a closer look."
"Shouldn't we wait for Dr. Symski?"
"I don't think that'll be necessary." She strode toward the wall, placing a mining helmet on her head.